


Severus Snape: Dark Veela

by hogwartshoney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwartshoney/pseuds/hogwartshoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape is a Dark Veela, and it is his curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Severus Snape: Dark Veela

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wraps around canon except that I’ve downplayed the significance of Severus’ relationship with Lily. 
> 
> Written for carolinelamb at LiveJournal's Snupin Santa fic exchange.

June 1969

Severus is always proudest of the way he can move silently through the house, his creature heritage lending a uncanny stealth to his footsteps. The first time he discovers his mother, she is huddled on the floor in the corner by the sink, her face turned towards the cabinets and crooning to herself. Surprised, Severus realizes that it is the same sing-songy crooning sound that she makes for him whenever he is afraid or wakes from bad dreams.

“Mam?”

Her shoulders stiffen and her rocking ceases, looking for all the world like an animal caught. Dark red blood runs sluggishly in rivulets down her chin before falling in great fat droplets into her lap, staining the rose-coloured apron an unattractive shade.

Surprise and horror bolt through Severus’ gut in an icy wave as he drops to his knees beside her.

“What…?” is all he can manage.

His mother looks at him through the one eye that isn’t swollen shut.

“I had a bad fall, Severus.”

“Let me heal you,” he says, eager to practice the little magic he knows.

“NO ! Severus, your father… I- I‘ll be all right in a few days.”

They both know it as a lie, but at nine years of age, Severus is wise enough not to pursue the subject. 

Tobias Snape hates magic. 

Months later, Severus pushes through the door, windswept and happy after a morning at the park with Lily, but the eerie stillness of the house gives him pause. He walks silently through the sitting room, his senses on alert for the slightest noise.

There are signs of violence in the small kitchen. The table and one of the chairs is overturned and there are broken bits of china scattered about. His mother lies on the cold lino, curled in around herself, blood flowing freely from a gash to her forehead, her face bruised, one arm held protectively against her chest.

He gathers soft clean cloths and an antiseptic potion and kneels beside her, but she will not meet his eyes .

“But why does he hit you, Mam?”

“Dark Veela cannot choose their mates, Severus.”

“But you could have run away. You could have-” _taken me away…_

“No, Severus. No, my son, I could not have.”

He dabs gently at her wounds, afraid to touch her and yet afraid to not touch her. _His father_ has done this, to her, to them both.

“Dark Veela are weak, Severus; we must always have a master.”

His mother, once a powerful witch, is now just a shadow of herself, most of her magic taken by his father during her mating and marriage. Severus vows to never allow anyone to wield that kind of power over him. He embraces the dark aspect of his nature with all the passion of the young, learning complex curses and hexes and jinxes in order to better protect himself. He will not allow any person to rob him of his magical ability.

* * *

August 1981

Severus stands before a marble bowl on the heavy wooden desk, the room illuminated only by the four candles surrounding it. There is absolute silence.

“You will have to cast the spell yourself, Severus.”

Severus nods nervously, moving his wand carefully through the complicated series of movements as he says the spell clearly and precisely.

_“Aperio fatum.”_

A thin mist appears before him and he tries to calm the rapid pounding of his heart. This is it; with this spell, he will finally know his mate, ending years of anxiety and worry. 

The mist coalesces into a vaguely familiar face, but nothing significant stands out. Severus waits impatiently as the features become more apparent, and he feels a cold lump of dread settle in his stomach as the face sharpens and locks into crystal clarity. Even without colour or shading, the face before him is unmistakable for all its ordinariness.

"Lupin," Severus intones flatly as his hand falls limply at his side, his wand clattering to the floor, his knees weak. "Oh, merciful Merlin, he’s a werewolf! How much worse can my life actually get?" He doesn’t really register that the mist has shown him a male as his mate, even though that is his preference.

A warm hand rests firmly on his shoulder and the tinkle of tiny bells is the only sound as the Headmaster shakes his head.

“I am sorry, my boy. I had hoped that learning the truth would at least alleviate some of your concerns.”

“Alleviate my _concerns??_ “ Agitated, Severus rubs the scar on his leg as he bends to pick up his wand, the scar put there by the slashing claws of the very subject of their discussion. “My mate is a werewolf, Headmaster, and not just any werewolf, but the one that tried to EAT me not too long ago. How can that possibly alleviate my concerns?”

Albus’ expression is sympathetic yet firm. “That was six years ago, Severus.”

Severus glares across the table.

“It could have been six minutes ago, Headmaster. There’s nothing quite like being chased down a dark tunnel and slashed by a ravening monster!”

“Be that as it may, he has already marked you, Severus, and the spell is clear. You must go through with this. I cannot have an unmated adult Veela - dark or light - in this school. You know that you can only come into heat twice before-”

“Yes………. I _know_.” Severus grinds out, wanting to bite something, and he shudders at the thought that werewolves probably bite an awful lot. Dark Veela come into heat once a year, and after the second time, if they have not mated, they descend rapidly into madness, and soon thereafter, death. He closes his eyes against the wicked twists of his fate and hangs his head, grudgingly allowing Albus to pat the back of his neck in a show of sympathy and support.

“I can tell him, if it will make things easier for you.”

Part of Severus wants to refuse, to be brave and be a man and act as an adult, but the larger part of him still struggles with the enormity of the situation. Perhaps Dumbledore is the better person to explain it to Lupin - Severus isn’t sure that he can face the other man right now.

He nods mutely, and the Headmaster claps him once on the shoulder before he leaves. Severus stands alone in the dark room, the candles guttering and spitting and dying, and tries desperately to un-tilt his world.

At the age of 21, Severus is sexually mature, about to come into heat for the first time, and his mate is none other than Remus Lupin.

* * *

Dark Veela are rare, and with good reason. What little documentation that exists is spare with details. They have no sensual dance or bewitching crooning cry with which to attract a mate; in fact, Severus’ croon is guttural and not particularly pleasant. They have no beauty; Severus’ pale skin and sharp features are but a side-effect - an inverse of the light and the beautiful true Veela. All they _do_ have is a powerful allure with which they ensnare their Mate.

* * *

Severus loathes the idea of becoming a simpering needy creature once a year, and more so, having to do it in order to entice a werewolf. Not that the wolf in question is unattractive, not really, and if Severus allows himself to ponder that further, he has to admit (if only to himself) that Lupin possesses most of what attracts him to a man.

The fact that Lupin also becomes a werewolf at every full moon both terrifies and intrigues him.

* * *

The months pass and the days grow colder, and Severus descends into his first heat during the last week in October. Dumbledore takes over Severus’ classes and orders him underground in order to ride out the two-week-long ordeal. His mind is muddled with yearnings of desire, and he fixates on the need to writhe beneath his mate, to put himself on display, spread out like a feast for his mate‘s consumption.

It’s maddening. 

Debasing. 

Embarrassing.

A week later, the Potters are killed, and Severus wails in the dungeons, dimly feeling his mate’s anguish and loss which echoes his own. Another week later, when he feels that he can finally exercise a modicum of control over himself and is allowed to leave the dungeons, he lurks at the Potters’ funeral, straining for a glimpse of Lupin. His breath catches when he finally sees him - Lupin looks… _destroyed_. Severus remains partly hidden against an old tree on the edges of the property and quivers when he catches Lupin’s eye as the man shuffles through the courtyard of the small chapel. The last vestiges of Severus’ heat are slowly leaving his body and his thoughts are almost clear, helped in no small part by his Occlumency, yet the almost-silent trill of a mating call still rings in his head. He cannot risk showing his true nature to the public, and his allure is all but useless now.

The air around him seems to grow colder, as if the early November temperatures aren’t low enough, and he realizes that he’s been spotted. A human wall of Order members forms between Severus and the rest of the funeral party, blocking Lupin from his view. There is a breath of silence in which nothing moves, but then Lupin, eyes flashing, breaks through the line and hurls himself at Severus, who merely stands waiting, flowing with pleasure and preening at this overt display of Lupin’s delicious power.

Until Lupin touches him.

Shoves him, more like, with a crazy light in his eyes and an odd fury that contorts his face, and then he shoves him again, _hard_. Desire explodes through Severus’ as he staggers backwards. Going with the momentum and spinning his body around, wanting only to surrender, to submit, to acquiesce to his powerful and dominant mate, he turns to face Lupin who rushes towards him and shoves him again, even harder, or so it feels to Severus, and he staggers before crashing to the ground with Lupin on top of him.

Too stunned to move, he lies on the cold ground as Lupin looms over him, sparking a desperation in him for more; a blinding urge to be mastered, a need to be possessed, while Lupin grips his shoulders and shakes him, shouting in a fierce rage, “Why are you here? Why are you _here?_ You hated him - you wanted him dead. They’re dead because of you!”

Severus is too dazed by raw _want_ to respond, but he reaches up, holding fast to the sleeves of Lupin‘s jacket, finally understanding what the man is shouting. _He thinks I had them… killed?_ Horrified, he wants to shout, “No! I’m _innocent“_ , but he can’t speak around the lump in his throat and the pain of failure blossoming in his chest.

Eventually, Lupin’s friends haul the man away, but breaking contact with him feels like tearing skin, flesh and bone, and with an inhuman and anguished scream, Severus Disapparates.

He doesn’t splinch himself, but it’s a very near thing. After rushing up through the gates and into the castle, he finally stands in the middle of his dungeon room, his entire body shuddering from the intensity of their encounter as he screams his frustration and annoyance and lust to the cold hard stone, every cell in his body on fire.

His mother had warned him as he grew towards maturity that his first heat would be intense. She never told him that it would _burn._ There was much she never told him; so much that he has had to learn for himself. 

The last days of his heat are filled with feelings of sorrow, loss and failure, and Severus is blinded by his desire and pain and disbelief that he has been so viciously cast aside.

Lupin has refused him.

* * *

There soon becomes another problem. Lupin disappears, and Severus sinks into depression.

* * *

Dumbledore swears that he knows nothing of it, but Severus thinks he knows the old man well enough by now. Even the way he peers at Severus over those half-moon glasses makes him think that the Headmaster is being less than truthful.

“Headmaster…”

“I’ve told him that it’s not your fault about James and Lily; he understands that you had nothing to do with it.”

“Yet still he blames me,” Severus is despondent.

“He needs to heal, Severus. His entire world has changed, and he needs time away from all of this to clear his head.”

_Away from me…._ Neither of them says it, but Severus knows that they are both thinking it.

“How long?”

“Several months at least, perhaps even a year.”

_Merlin!_ A year!” The words alone are crushing.

“It’s the only way.”

A year from now, Severus will be in heat for the second time, and that one will decide his fate. Neither he nor Dumbledore mention it. The weight of the silence is heavy enough.

* * *

1982

A year passes both quickly and slowly. Severus returns to teaching, more morose and embittered than ever. The importance of his second heat weighs heavily on his mind, and even as he snipes at other members of staff and deducts an obscene number of House points from students, he focuses on one thing.

Success.

He cannot allow himself to fail, and he will, if necessary, use his allure to get what he wants. He’s Slytherin enough that it doesn’t really bother him, per se, but… Lupin is a Gryffindor, and they’re all about fair play, which could prove problematic.

Dumbledore has cheerfully assured him that all is not lost, but as September rolls around as inevitably as ever, Severus begins to doubt even the great Albus Dumbledore. The new term begins, but it is not until the middle of October, when Severus is valiantly trying not to murder a new batch of dunderheads for failing to remove the cauldron from the fire _before_ adding the porcupine quills and thereby destroying yet _another_ Boil Cure Potion, that word comes from Dumbledore of Lupin’s return.

Fortunately, the note arrives mere minutes before the end of class, and Severus dismisses the first years in haste. Their surprised mutterings at not being assigned homework are little more than background noise as he slams closed the doors to his classroom and hastens to the Headmaster’s office.

Breathlessly, he ascends the stairs, fretting with the gargoyle for taking too long to leap aside and grousing at the rotating staircase for moving _so slowly_. Eventually, he takes the steps two at a time and hammers on the brass griffin as he arrives, breathless, at the Headmaster’s door.

The door opens just as slowly and placidly as ever. Severus grinds his teeth in annoyance, but enters at the Headmaster’s invitation.

“Ah, Severus, there you are. I was just composing an owl to Mr. Lupin informing him of-”

“Where is he?” Severus demands.

The arch of Dumbledore’s eyebrow could rival his own. Severus remains standing, although perhaps the slightest bit chastened.

“Mr. Lupin is safe, Severus. The fact that he has written to me indicates that he is willing to at least consider meeting with you.”

“ _Consider?_ “ Severus explodes incredulously. “He needs to do more than ‘consider’, Headmaster!”

“The onus is not upon him to save your life, Severus. The onus is on _you_ to convince him that he should. Just think what it means for his life, his future and his dreams.”

Severus is momentarily stunned. In his year-long planning to woo Lupin, he hasn’t considered that Lupin might… refuse. 

“But he’s a Gryffindor. Don’t you people always do the right thing?”

Dumbledore’s smile is wry and a bit secretive. Severus isn’t sure he likes that smile.

“Sometimes ‘the right thing’ can be disguised, Severus, and often there are differing views on just what ‘the right thing’ might be.”

Desperation descends over Severus, draping around him like a close-fitting cloak, constricting him. The parchment is blotted and rolled, and Severus watches morosely as Dumbledore gives the missive to his phoenix who disappears in a flash and a ball of fire.

If Lupin refuses him, perhaps there is another person he can come to some sort of arrangement with, a sort of ‘lesser mate’, one perhaps not as suited as Lupin seems to be, but someone, _anyone_ who would be willing to bond with Severus in order to save his life. Surely the members of staff wouldn’t… just… allow him to die?

But what if they can’t bond with him? What if Lupin is truly Severus’ only hope? Suddenly it’s difficult to breathe, and to swallow, and his heartbeat thuds violently in his ears… but he’s pulled out of his musings by the sharp sound of Dumbledore clearing his throat.

“Give Mr Lupin a few days to reply, Severus. I will let you know just as soon as he does.”

_A few days…._ To Severus, that is an eternity.

* * *

While awaiting Lupin’s reply, Severus devises a plan. Once he has Lupin firmly in his thrall, the balance of the seduction and bonding should proceed without any further problems. Occasionally, he has twinges of something that feels suspiciously like regret, wishing that somehow this could have come about in another way, but he cannot afford to take any more chances, not when his very life is at stake.

He’s taking a huge chance as it is, deciding to wait until he’s fully in heat before meeting with Lupin, but he cannot risk failure. A Dark Veela’s allure increases tenfold when they are at the peak of their mating season, four or five days into their heat cycle, and the likelihood of success is greatest then. He will also be much more responsive to any advances that Lupin may make towards him, something that already makes his body shiver with excitement.

Another crucial aspect of their meeting is the influence of the full moon. Severus calculates that, with the full on the first of November, Lupin will be at his most… dominant… in the two days prior. Severus walks a tightrope of calculation and chance towards a narrow window of opportunity, and his stomach twists at the thought of what could go wrong.

His second heat begins relatively on schedule, and it is different from the first. He feels the beginning of the changes in his body, he becomes more snappish with people, his cock and bollocks are more sensitive and his sense of smell sharpens. As the week progresses, his voice deepens further and his dreams are filled with flashes of light, desperate cries of hunger and lust. Despite that, Severus feels that he’s more able to control himself. Oh, the lure to get to Lupin is just as strong, his desire to mate equally as intense, but he is at least able to _think_ this time and can even apply Occlumency to many of his thoughts. He knows what to expect and he is more prepared for it.

After several days and - Severus suspects - Dumbledore’s intervention, Lupin finally agrees to meet with him. The note which arrives via owl simply reads _8pm tonight. Second floor, end of the hall_ with Apparation coordinates somewhere in Exeter. Nervous and yet exhilarated, Severus goes there blindly, resolving to calm his agitation before he enters the lion’s den, as it were.

Lion’s den? A den of iniquity, more like. Severus stands in disbelief outside a Muggle night club with loud music blaring through its oft-opened doors, its customers spilling drunkenly out of said doors and some of the females out of their blouses as well, it would seem. He is dressed as a Muggle and has no concerns about standing out in this crowd, but he’s temporarily taken aback by the noise and the confusion, stepping to the side as a small group stumbles past him. They’ve distracted him, yes, but it’s only temporary as his heightened Veela senses lock onto Lupin’s magical signature and urge him up the stairs towards his destiny.

He steps onto a long, dimly-lit hallway and walks quickly towards the door at the end, his heart pounding in counterpoint to the thumping bass of the music from the club downstairs. He hesitates, feeling off-balance, nervous, his stomach in knots, and he wipes his clammy hands on his jeans before knocking, even though every cell of his body wants to burst through the door and offer himself up to Lupin.

He must… Remain… Calm.

His cautious knock is answered swiftly, and Lupin swings the door open, standing as far away from it as possible while still holding onto the door’s handle. Severus nods and enters, concentrating on taking measured, even steps while he greedily drinks in every detail of Lupin.

He’s still on the thin side, but his face doesn’t hold the anguish that it did the last time they… met. His hair is longer, more dishevelled, and reminds Severus of a young lion’s mane. He’s grown out of his awkward teenaged body and grown into his broad shoulders, and even though a few more scars are visible on his neck, he’s well on his way to full adulthood.

Severus makes sure not to look him in the eyes, though, since he already fights the urge to get down on his knees before the man and offer himself completely. His instincts beat against the cage of his willpower, clawing to find a way to completion, but he clamps down hard on his mental shields and they tremble but hold. He must not be seen as hysterical or desperate or a quivering mass of needwantlust. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep, slow, calming breath.

It barely helps, for Severus realizes that he hasn’t taken into account the effect of Lupin’s _body heat_ or the way it stokes his own fevered desire. The music continues to thump downstairs which only serves to accelerate his own heartbeat.

Lupin closes the door and stands with his back against it, regarding him warily. Severus is suddenly worried about the Herculean task before him - to convince a former enemy to- No, Severus shakes his head. _No, never actually an enemy_ , and that thinking will not get him anywhere. Think no more of the past, only of the present and a hopeful future.

He clears his throat.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Lupin.”

Severus turns, his body fully focussed on the object of his intent as Lupin moves warily around the edge of the shabby room.

“Dumbledore can be persuasive,” he mutters, turning to face Severus, shoulders back, head lifted, chin up, confident. _Mate._ The urge to drop to his knees and beg rushes through Severus so quickly and powerfully that he sways slightly.

Clearly oblivious to the effect he has on Severus, Lupin continues. “Listen, about .. before-”

Severus has to stop him before they go down that road again, the road that leads to recriminations and blame and misery.

“I’ve come to ask you-”

“I know. You’ve come to negotiate your…” Lupin gestures between them. “Your… mating.”

“I- Yes.” Severus hangs his head, baring the back of his neck to Lupin who he hopes will see it for the act of submission that it is.

Silence pervades the room and Severus senses distrust and anger on the other man. _No! He must not doubt, must not distrust me. Mate must want._

“And I am to be your master? Forgive me, Severus, but this is most unorthodox…”

“Not ‘master’. ‘Mate‘. Are you saying that you’re not up to the task, Lupin?”

Severus is quivering, whether from fear, distress or because the urge within him to mate, to complete, is so strong that it threatens to tear at his walls.

“I’m more than up to it, but to bond to you, to control you…”

“Wolves have packs, Lupin. Surely the concept of being Alpha isn’t foreign to you.”

Lupin’s eyes narrow in anger. “How many packs do you think I’ve been in, Severus? I’m human first, Wizard first!”

He thrusts his hands through his already-dishevelled hair and Severus follows every strand that falls, his body singing at the thought of having those hands on him.

“You were certainly a member of Potter’s pack, weren‘t you.”

The moment he says it, he wishes he could take it back, as the dimly-held fury in Lupin’s eyes flares to full light. He advances on Severus who takes several steps backwards and raises his hands to ward off what will certainly be several hard blows, just like...

_His mother, lip bleeding, head averted, eyes downcast and nursing her wounds after Tobias flew into a rage…_

Instead, Lupin grabs his upraised wrists firmly but not cruelly. Severus tries not to flinch, momentarily confused by the lack of violence, but the effect of skin-on-skin contact shatters what’s left of Severus’ control over himself and the turbulent desires of the Veela.

“Lupin,” he whispers, helpless. _“Please…”_

Sexual desire swells in Severus, the urge to mate, the need to belong, and the creature within him rises to the fore, his body vibrating with the intensity of it, projecting his power in waves… _come… own… come… take… come… need… come… possess… come … take… come, want, want..._

Lupin’s eyes seem to glaze over, becoming unfocussed as filament-thin lines of allure visible only to Severus wrap around Lupin’s body. The man stands still, blinking, with a curious expression on his face, but as Severus glides closer, Lupin shakes his head as though throwing off a curse, before suddenly grabbing Severus’ hair and spinning him around, pulling Severus hard against his chest and growling in his ear.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now. If I’m going to fuck you and claim you as mine, then I’ll do it because _I_ want to and not because you’re using some damn allure.”

“But…”

Lupin wrenches Severus’ head to the side and bites down on the straining muscles there. Severus moans as the mating urge rises in him again at Lupin‘s show of dominance.

_come… own… come… take… come…_

“I’m a Dark creature, Severus. Surely you didn’t think that your allure would be enough to hold me?”

Severus is surprised to hear real anger in Lupin’s voice, and he tilts his head back and bares his neck in an act of complete submission. His body thrums with sinful vibrations at the feel of his mate‘s body pressing against his. Lupin slides his open palm down the front of Severus’ shirt and into his trousers, pressing down over the obvious arousal there. Severus moans, his muscles weakening, his body quivering with anticipation.

“I’ve done some research about you. About… your kind.”

Trembling, Severus huffs out a tortured breath as Lupin squeezes his cock. He _needs_ …

“You need dominance.”

_Needs… craves… wants…_

He moans, a guttural cry, bitten off as, with Lupin’s whispered spell, they are both naked. Lupin pushes him down onto the bed, and Severus cries out, half joy and half pure want, his cock harder than it’s ever been. He arches his back and spreads his legs, muscles quivering as he puts himself on display, taking pleasure in the way his very skin craves Lupin’s touch. Lupin’s eyes seem to glow in the room’s darkness as he lunges, landing possessively on all fours on the bed, crouching over Severus and _growling_. He places his hands behind Severus’ knees, pushing his legs towards his chest, spreading them even further apart and opening him up to Lupin’s every desire. Muscles stretched almost beyond their limits, Severus’ body wants it, and the Veela in him wants to be taken and opened and filled by this man, needs to be possessed and protected, begs to be fucked, mated, _owned_.

“Please…. Lupin… oh…gods, _PLEASE_ “ Severus’ voice breaks with his need as he is broken by his creature’s desires and the powerful urge to bond.

Finally, _finally_ , the blunt head of Lupin’s cock presses against Severus’ opening which is already slick and relaxed and _ready_ , a natural expression of a Dark Veela’s readiness to mate. Nothing must stand in the way of their claiming. Severus’ breath catches for a moment as Lupin pushes inside the ring of muscle, his cock hot and so hard, and, with a pained, joyful cry, Severus submits, surrendering his human reservations to the powerful force of the creature inside him.

Lupin grips Severus’ hair tightly and hooks his elbows over Severus’ shoulders, using them as leverage to pull Severus down onto his cock as he thrusts into Severus again and again, grunting and panting with the effort. Severus is opened impossibly wide, his body almost bent double and it’s still not enough to take in all of Lupin as he ruts punishingly, desperately, as desperately as Severus wants him to and still wants more. 

As Lupin’s rhythm begins to falter, Severus hooks his legs around Lupin’s waist, holding him there, riding him from beneath and arching his own hips to pull Lupin even deeper inside. Lupin growls again and bites down on Severus’ shoulder as he thrusts deeply, once, twice, and the sensations overload Severus, waves of pleasure overlapping one on top the other, and as Lupin roars his completion to the walls and the wildness, Severus’ own climax breaks over him with terrifying force, taking with it all thought and worry and all knowledge other than he is mated. 

Bonded. 

And that he will _live._

* * *

When Severus wakes later that night, Lupin is seated at the small desk in the corner of the room with parchment and a quill. Severus comes fully awake, all his senses attuned to Lupin, wondering who he’s writing to and anguished that he is not the recipient of every glance and every thought, anguished that those hands do not wish to reach out and caress him, and mortification that he’s actually still _thinking_ that way about Lupin. A Gryffindor, for the love of Merlin! But also his Mate.

Finally, he catches Lupin’s eye, and Severus struggles to remain still for a moment, forces himself to not bound over to him. Instead, he rises from the bed slowly, and - he hopes - seductively prowls over to kneel at Lupin’s feet. His creature nature wars with his pride, although his pride seems to be taking a hit lately now that his hormones have shifted.

He tells himself that it’s no longer desperation as he rests his head on Lupin’s thigh. He assures himself that he’s merely following his creature instincts as he arches up into the hand that Lupin has placed firmly on his head. He swears to himself that his body controls him as he croons awkwardly to his Mate.

Lupin’s hand tightens in Severus’ hair as he pushes him firmly away and backward, and then down to lie face down on the ground. Lying there with his forehead on Lupin’s bare feet and his body thrumming with submissive desire, it’s all that Severus can do to not writhe against the floor, affording his cock some well-deserved release. In an instant, he is starkly reminded of another night not unlike this one where he gave himself and his loyalty to another dark creature. 

The Dark Lord, however, was never one for reciprocity.

Lupin shags him twice more that night and once the next morning before he leaves. Severus Apparates to Hogwarts and proceeds directly into his own rooms where he sits in a hot bath with healing potions for a long time. He is sore and aching but more settled than he’s ever been. For the first time in years he isn’t cowed by what he is, he isn’t worried that he will not mate, and he allows himself the smallest moment of satisfaction to take it all in.

He dries off and checks for damage, but only finds a few small tears which have already begun to heal. He looks at himself in the mirror, noting the line of bruises along his shoulders and touching the two livid bite marks with the tips of his fingers. He shudders, not from pain, but from remembered pleasure.

Dumbledore is, of course, pleased to hear the news, and Severus feels himself blushing under the amused smile and twinkling gaze of the Headmaster. He mumbles acceptance of congratulations and excuses himself as quickly as he can.

Lupin sends an owl four days later.

_Severus,_

_I will visit your rooms every month on the day prior to my transformation. Be prepared._

_R_

Severus Banishes the letter in an angered rage, then retrieves it with a flick of his wand. He scowls at it a little longer and then casts a particularly vicious _Incendio_ , only to be followed soon after by _Reparo_.

Scowl.

_Diffindo!_

_Reparo…_

Fucking Lupin. 

Severus cannot disobey a direct order, nor, it would seem, can he destroy one.

* * *

15 December 1982

Severus looks up from the latest Potions Weekly, staring across the room towards his private lab. In an article outlining the greatest breakthroughs in the past decade, the shining winner is Damocles Belby, who had developed what appeared to be a stunning breakthrough in the battle against Lycanthropy. A new potion named, appropriately enough, Wolfsbane, which would allow the afflicted person to retain their mental faculties instead of descending into dementia. It doesn’t, however, prevent the transformation.

There are two full moons this month, and Severus considers the enormity of that simple fact. Lupin will have to endure two transformations per full moon, thirteen moons per year.

Every year.

Severus returns to the article and raises an eyebrow at the amount of aconite in the brew - surely that borders on a toxic level? It’s a complicated potion, to be sure, and nothing to be undertaken lightly. It requires patience and exacting standards and a greater-than-average level of skill, and would certainly be a challenge…

He retrieves a bit of parchment and a quill.

_Mr. Belby,_

_With regard to your Wolfsbane potion, what formula did you use to derive the amount of aconite used…_

* * *

Severus walks through the cold silent halls of Hogwarts, basking in the serenity of the sentient magic all around him. The castle always feels like a different place during the winter holidays without scores of noisy children around. It’s at times like this when he can almost feel the very walls breathe a sigh of relief.

As he turns the corner to head back to the Great Hall, he comes across the Headmaster standing at a large window and gazing out at the snowy grounds. Severus nods, intending to walk on and continue to his rooms, but as he approaches, the Headmaster turns to face him.

“Severus, dear boy. How are you getting along?”

“Quite well, Headmaster, thank you. And yourself?”

“Oh, as well as an old wizard can be,” he says merrily. “Still lots of adventures left to live.”

Sometimes, Dumbledore’s twinkling can be a bit unnerving.

“Of course. If you would excuse me-”

“They don’t mate for life, you know. Werewolves.”

There is something in the undertone of his voice that brings Severus up short.

“Headmaster?”

Dumbledore gestures for Severus to continue walking and falls into step beside him.

“It’s a common misconception that Werewolves mate for life. Perhaps it’s meant to comfort those among us who fear them, thinking that they are content with their own kind.”

“I’m sure I don’t understand.”

Dumbledore looks at him not unkindly.

“Severus, your bonding is due to your Dark Veela blood. It is absolutely essential for your well being, but not necessary for _his_.”

A cold desperation settles uncomfortably in Severus’ gut and he wants to leave the conversation - wants to flee, go somewhere far away and just process Dumbledore‘s words. _Lupin… isn’t bonded to him, only HE is bonded to Lupin._ Severus had thought that his problems were over now that he and Lupin have mated, but now their cautious and tentative beginning feels as though it is in jeopardy. If the man is free to walk away at any opportunity, why doesn’t he?

Why hasn’t he?

* * *

26 February 1983 - full moon 27 February 

Severus examines the goblet of potion on the desk before him. It emits a faint blue smoke, smells dreadful, looks dreadful, and he can only hazard a guess at the taste. He is certain that he has brewed it correctly, using both Belby’s notes as well as his own, but he wonders whether Lupin will drink it.

He stores it carefully in a sealed cupboard, warded against opening by anyone other than himself, and prepares for Lupin’s arrival. He bathes quickly, but not too thoroughly - Lupin likes the lingering smell of musk, not soap - and dresses in only a heavy robe. A Warming Charm will keep him at a comfortable temperature until…

Severus is in his bedroom when Lupin arrives an hour later, stalking through the door with a primal hunger in his eyes. Severus shivers despite himself - there’s something about that look in Lupin’s eyes the day before the full moon that both thrills him and makes him nervous, and although he always does his best to please the man, he is never certain whether or not Lupin will resort to violence.

With a few long strides, Lupin crosses the room and backs Severus up against the writing desk on the far wall, holding him there with the full weight of his body as he runs his open mouth up along Severus’ neck and over the jugular vein, nudging Severus’ jaw and chin up, forcing him to bare his neck in a vulnerable position. He follows the same path again, but with his tongue this time, and then he takes hold of Severus’ jugular in his teeth, holding but not biting. Severus’ entire body is on edge - it’s always the same, every month, and fuck, Severus is weak-kneed yet again. He waits, wondering if this time the animal will be too close to the surface; whether Lupin will bite down, severing his windpipe, larynx, arteries, leaving him to bleed out on the floor…

Lupin waits too, and Severus knows that he’s waiting for him to submit, but he can’t know that Severus battles with himself every time, as he does now, pushing down his fear of the wolf that lives inside of Lupin and forcing himself to accept his master, exhaling and relaxing into the position.

Lupin growls, but, surprisingly, it is different and less guttural than the one the werewolf uses when he wants to dominate completely.

It almost sounds like… desire.

Does Lupin _want_ him?

Severus is momentarily stunned by the revelation and doesn’t resist Lupin as he quickly removes first Severus’ clothes and then his own, then spins him around to press him face down on the desk. He holds Severus there, and although Severus has cast the usual spells to clean and stretch himself, Lupin still prepares him thoroughly and thrusts into him with hardly a moment’s hesitation.

Severus cries out in surprise. Until now, Lupin has shagged him readily enough, full of energy and lycan stamina, but never with the level of arousal and enthusiasm that he displays tonight. Severus spreads his legs and arches his back, and Lupin grips him firmly, anchoring him against the heavy desk and grazing Severus’ prostate every few strokes. It’s so intense, and Severus’ arousal builds quickly, but not quickly enough, and he groans as Lupin’s cock pulses within him as the man comes, shuddering, his finishing thrusts erratic and sharp. He withdraws and grips Severus’ hips tightly, turning him around while sinking to his knees. He steadies Severus with one hand against his stomach while taking his cock in his mouth, sucking it down to the root as he presses his fingers behind Severus‘ bollocks, massaging his perineum and prostate again and again.

Already close to the edge, Severus explodes from the double stimulation and he grips the edge of the desk for support, even though Lupin’s hand is still firmly holding him up. Lupin sucks him dry, cradling his bollocks and taking his softening prick deeper into his mouth until his face presses into the hair of Severus‘ groin. He inhales deeply, and the sight almost makes Severus come again, but even at 23, his body is too weak to contemplate that just yet. 

He watches, fascinated, as Lupin releases him with a slow slide of tongue and just a hint of teeth, his lips spit-shiny, his face flushed from exertion. Severus slides down the side of the desk to collapse next to Lupin, both of them in a sprawling heap on the floor, breathing heavily. He only belatedly realizing that they are lying on his robes when Lupin performs a lazy cleaning charm on them both.

When their breathing finally evens out, Severus looks across at Lupin who has his arm thrown over his face. Perhaps sensing movement, Lupin moves his arm and looks across at Severus, and his expression is something that Severus hasn’t seen before; a softer, almost contemplative gaze, slightly heavy-lidded with impending slumber.

“That…. was incredible,” he breathes softly, and Severus is unexpectedly at a loss for words. There’s a curious weight in his chest and he suddenly feels incredibly exposed as the moment stretches long and quiet between them, not uncomfortable, but hesitant and cautious and… new. 

Reluctant to break the fragile silence but knowing that he must, Severus stands slowly. He Summons a blanket and wraps himself in it almost like a shield.

“I’ll just- Give me a minute, will you?”

Lupin nods. Severus returns to his lab and un-wards the cabinet holding the Wolfsbane, thinking all the while that his preconceived idea that Lupin came every month before the full moon merely for his own gratification might not be strictly true. 

His hand shakes slightly as he removes the potion, and he knows that from today, whatever relationship he has with Lupin will be forever changed. If Lupin accepts the potion, then that would make the man dependent on _him_ for something, as Severus will have to brew the concoction monthly. It would also further cement their bond.

If Lupin refuses… Severus shakes his head - Why would Lupin refuse?

He Disillusions the goblet before placing it on the mantelpiece and turns to find Lupin sprawled on the couch scratching idly at his forearms. He looks up almost sheepishly at Severus’ return.

“The moon. Even though it doesn’t rise until tomorrow, I can still _feel_ it coming.”

Severus sits on the couch a little distance from Lupin, but still close enough to see every fleck of colour in his eyes. “Tell me.”

Lupin drags himself upright and throws him a half-quizzical glance as he Summons Severus' robe and wraps it around his own shoulders.

"My transformations are… terrible. It’s very painful, the way my muscles stretch as the bones elongate and tendons feel like they’re bursting, ripping, my skin crawls and… it’s just horrible. I lose my senses eventually when the wolf takes over, but I’m still aware of every break and tear.”

Severus swallows. “Is that why the wolf is so, you know, vicious?”

“Dunno, do I?” He taps his forehead. “I’m not around in here to find out. James and-” he swallows hard. “James and Sirius used to say that I was much better tempered when they were around.”

Severus is confused. “How could they be around you?”

“Well, they... actually, they weren't in human form, you see, so the wolf didn't bother them.”

_Not in human form?_ Suddenly, something clicks in Severus’ memory. He’d long suspected that Potter and his gang were up to something, and even though he’d guessed at Lupin’s lycanthropy, he’d never thought that the others… but now that Lupin mentions it, he _does_ remember seeing a stag and a dog running through the forest late one night while he was collecting ingredients during the FULL MOON! At the time, he’d thought it odd that the dog didn’t seem to be chasing the stag or vice versa.

Well, well, perhaps Potter and Black weren’t quite the idiots he’d taken them for. But…

“Animagi? _Both_ of them?”

Lupin stands, his expression serious. “Yes, and Peter too, but you are sworn to secrecy where that is concerned. Forever, Severus.”

The command takes Severus by surprise, but the Dark Veela within acquiesces immediately to the will of the master. He bows his head and nods.

“Good. I’d better go, the moon rises early tomorrow.”

“No, wait. I have- There’s a potion, you see, called Wolfsbane.”

Lupin’s eyes narrow and he pulls Severus’ robe more tightly around his shoulders.

“Yes. I’ve heard of it.”

Severus hesitates. Lupin seems wary.

“I’ve brewed some for you, if you’d like to drink it.”

“Severus, that requires an Advanced Potions Mastery. Half the problem with the potion is that so few people can brew it. It’s also ridiculously expensive - the Aconite alone-”

“I have it. Here.”

He lifts the Disillusionment Charm and Lupin’s eyes widen.

“Is that really-”

“Yes. I’ve corresponded with Mr. Belby, the inventor of the potion, and we’ve agreed that I should try it. With you. On you. If you’d agree, of course.”

“Severus…”

“It smells dreadful and probably tastes at least as bad. I suggest you hold your nose and drink it down all at once. Oh, and, _do_ try not to vomit; I imagine it would be infinitely worse coming back up.”

Lupin appears to consider Severus’ words for a moment and gives him a long, searching look before reaching for the goblet and downing the potion in one long gulp. He pulls a face of disgust and covers his mouth with his hand as he shudders.

“Ohhhh, Merlin, that is _foul!_ Can nothing be done about the taste?”

“Belby thinks not. So far his experiments with adding sugar have rendered the potion useless. You can wash out your mouth with water but don‘t swallow any of it.”

Lupin disappears into the bathroom, and Severus sits on the bed as he considers that Lupin’s actions with the Wolfsbane have shown an incredible level of trust, since Severus has not yet established himself as a potions master. Lupin has no idea whether or not this will actually work, but he drank the potion anyway.

With a burst of clarity, Severus suddenly realizes that his mother, also a Dark Veela, was mated to a cruel man who exerted his dominance on her in a very physical way, whereas Lupin, while certainly dominant and Alpha and _rather_ physical himself, is not cruel. Severus shudders at the realization that, as badly as his situation could have been, he is extraordinarily fortunate to be paired with Lupin.

Severus’ greatest fear has also not been realized. Tobias hated his mother’s magic and sought to strip it from her, his dominance giving him the right and the ability to do so. Lupin, it would seem, wants nothing more than magical equality within their bond. Content, Severus sits on the bed, closes his eyes and awaits his mate‘s bidding.

Lupin returns from the bathroom fully clothed. Severus bows his head slightly, but instead of Lupin running his hand along the back of Severus’ neck the way he usually does before leaving, he urges Severus to stand.

“Thank you, Severus.”

Slightly embarrassed, Severus nevertheless meets Lupin’s gaze.

“My pleasure, Lupin.”

He tries to smile, and Lupin catches his lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and intent, forceful but not overpowering, his hands tangling in Severus’ hair to hold his head just so, and Severus battles the warring sensations of possessing and being possessed. It’s a heady feeling and he’s drowning in it, in Lupin, in them.

Finally, Lupin breaks the kiss and bites gently at the underside of Severus’ jaw. “I’ll let you know how it goes,” and then he’s gone, slipping through the door and out through the castle before Severus can catch his breath and his bearings.

“Yes, you do that,” he murmurs into the silence.

Lupin returns the following night, tired and aching, but jubilant that he’d been able to keep his own mind throughout the entire night.

As Severus opens the door, Lupin grabs him around the waist and begins to spin him around with shouts of joy which soon turn to gasps of laughter and pain as his muscles protest. Severus manages to extricate himself from Lupin’s grip and gestures to the couch.

“Perhaps you’d best sit, Lupin.”

“Sit? But Severus!” he exclaims, his eyes shining as he paces the room excitedly, arms animated in his telling of the tale. “I cannot tell you the difference you’ve made in my life! I knew who I was, where I was, I explored the Shack as never before, and I was calm throughout. This potion, it’s… Merlin, it’s everything!”

Severus is sure that the mania of Lupin’s euphoric high will break soon, and surely enough, after a long and particularly enthusiastic snogging session, Lupin begins to tire.

Severus can feel the break coming, Lupin’s kisses become slow and languorous and his breathing lengthens, and before long, he lies beside Severus with his head on Severus’ chest, asleep, exhausted.

Severus enlarges the couch so that they can both lie comfortably and smiles as he considers the potion a success. He Summons blankets for them and falls asleep soon after, his arms firmly wrapped around his mate.

* * *

May 1983

Severus swings open his door at the knock, ready to deduct house points from whoever dares bother him at 7 o’clock on a Saturday evening, Head of House be damned.

“Lupin?”

“Hello, Severus.”

_Mother of Merlin! Is it the full moon already?_ He counts the days in his head as he walks swiftly into his private office to consult the star chart on his desk. He whirls around to face Lupin who has followed him into the office and now stands rather close, making Severus even more nervous than he was when he’d first opened his door.

“Lupin! It’s not even First Quarter!”

“I know.”

“Well then, why are you… here?” _Oh, Salazar, he’s come to tell me that the bond isn’t working for him any more, that he wants out, that wants his own life back-_

“I want to spend some time with you.”

“Yes, of course.“ He bows his head automatically, the creature inside him immediately obedient, only to find his chin lifted by Lupin’s fingers.

“No, Severus. Not an order but a request.”

_Oh._

Lupin continues to show up at Severus’ door on nights other than those preceding the full moon. At first, it’s awkward, since Lupin has none of his primal urges to use as an excuse for being there and Severus has no excuses of his own but they continue, growing more at ease in each others company, growing to enjoy the visits.

* * *

August, 1983

Severus wakes from a dream in which Lupin is doing sinful things to him to the feeling of Lupin’s tongue tracing along the tip of his cock. Groaning in pleasure, he shifts, spreading his legs so that Lupin can settle between them, and Lupin bends his head to the task once more. Long, slow, torturous licks with the flat of his tongue against the underside of Severus’ cock are just enough to arouse him but not enough friction to be satisfying. Lupin looks at him through his messy fringe as he tongues Severus’ balls, his eyes almost glowing in the pre-dawn light coming from the enchanted windows.

He shivers slightly as Lupin casts an exceptionally thorough cleaning charm and pushes him to turn over and lie face down on the bed with his arse high in the air.

Lupin runs the flat of his tongue against Severus’ hole, and it’s all that Severus can do not to moan out loud. The tongue licks in small curving strokes, gradually encircling the pucker until Severus’ legs are shaking so much that he fears they will give out on him altogether.

And then, Lupin runs his tongue in circles around and around and _around_ Severus’ hole, closer each time and pressing more and more firmly against the tight muscle. Severus’ hips follow the movement, around and around and he tries to open himself up even more, canting his hips and arching his back, and he feels Lupin’s hands, warm and calloused as they spread his cheeks open until his tongue is _inside_ , circling, pushing. 

Severus is losing his mind. His cock, hot and hard, grazes against the bed sheet as he moves, and when Lupin, still tonguing him, adds a finger inside his arse, Severus comes with blinding force, his entire body stiffening and shuddering as he empties himself.

Gasping for breath and trying to absorb the sensations, Severus slumps onto the bed, boneless and sated and the disquiet…. quieted. He’s amazed that Lupin can still bring him to such intensity of sensation and feeling almost a year later.

* * *

23 October 1983 - full moon 21 October

Severus had thought that, once mated, his urges would diminish, but in fact, Lupin’s monthly visits and shagging sessions always leave Severus wanting more. The werewolf is surprisingly versatile, flexible, aggressive in a way that secretly thrills Severus, and yet generous with his own attentions.

The full moon is just before Severus’ heat this month, but he is already so very responsive to every touch that Lupin shags him several times before drinking the Wolfsbane and leaving to transform.

He knows his heat is coming, of course; how can he miss the unmistakable and telltale signs. His cock is extra sensitive, even to the softest clothes. His bollocks ache. He’s snappish too- well, perhaps only a _little_ more than usual.

This time, Severus’ heat comes with a vengeance and he becomes a moody, broody, needy person. He is once more confined to his rooms for the duration, but this time, as a precautionary measure, so too is Lupin. A newly-mated Dark Veela can become territorial during their first Bonded heat, and neither Lupin nor the Headmaster want to find out the hard way just how territorial Severus might be.

They shag often, Severus’ natural urge to mate combined with Lupin’s insatiable libido ensuring that the days and nights pass quickly.

The final morning of Severus’ heat, he awakens slowly to the oddest sensation along the back of his lower leg. He lies motionless while he tries to identify just what it is. Wet. Warm. Raspy. Oddly arousing. He looks over his shoulder for a better view to find Lupin crouched over Severus’ legs, licking the scar over and over again while Severus writhes with the odd tingly _pleasure_ of it all.

He can’t seem to articulate any more than a grunt, and Lupin’s head snaps up, his eyes fixed on Severus, and for one shivery and not-entirely-pleasant moment, he looks every inch a _predator_. But then he smiles, and the image shatters.

“What is this?”

“An old battle scar.”

Lupin’s flat stare prompts Severus to re-think his answer.

“It’s where you clawed me in the tunnel that night.”

His eyes gleam with a feral light.

“Had I even known…”

“You were a ravening beast about to eat me.”

“I still am,” he grins, showing lots of teeth.

To Severus, the gleam in Lupin’s eyes looks a lot less like hunger and a lot more like lust. Either way, he is more than willing to be consumed.

*** The End ***

 

************* Footnotes **************

Severus’ marble bowl  
http://www.getunique.com/prodimages/marble-bowl1.jpg 

The candles in their holders  
http://images.hellotrade.com/data/5/V/MY-1536357/white_onyx_candle_lamp_pmow_1007_250x250.jpg


End file.
